


Corinthians

by paperstorm



Series: Deleted Scenes [88]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tag for <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1506849/?ref_=ttep_ep6">'I Believe The Children Are Our Future', 5x6</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corinthians

**Author's Note:**

>  

_Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth._

_Corinthians 13:4_

  
“Mm. So good, Sammy,” Dean breathes, reaching down and smoothing Sam’s bangs off his face.  
  
He’s sitting up against the headboard and Sam is sprawled across his lap, his forearms planted on either side of Dean’s hips and his long legs stretched out behind him and his lips wrapped around Dean’s cock. Sam looks up at him as he bobs his head slowly, his warm, wet mouth sliding up and down Dean’s aching erection. It’s nowhere near enough but it feels fantastic, Sam’s tongue dancing along the underside of Dean’s shaft as he sucks and swallows around him.  
  
Dean’s heart races and his head spins. Sam’s been at this for almost a goddamn half hour, bringing Dean _right_ to the edge and then backing off only to do it all over again until all Dean can think, all he can _feel_ , is how much he fucking wants to come but he won’t until Sam lets him because that’s how this game goes. Sam knows just how to work him, how to push his talented tongue into the spots that make Dean see stars, how to tease him until it _hurts_ ; unhurried and perfect in the way that only Sam knows how to do. Sam’s jaw has got to be _killing_ him at this point but he isn’t stopping, and if Dean wasn’t so hard his balls have to have gone from blue to purple to black, he’d spare a thought or two for how hot it is that Sam likes doing this. As it is, there’s a good possibility tonight might actually break Dean’s brain and he’ll never think about anything else ever again.  
  
Whether it ends in five seconds or lasts another hour, this is going down in Dean’s books as the best freaking blow-job he’s ever gotten in his _life_. He moans loudly when Sam sucks hard around the head, stars bursting behind his eyelids and every nerve-ending lighting up with warm, honey-sweet pleasure.  
  
Sam must sense that Dean’s getting close again because he pulls off with a filthy pop, and then dips his head down to nuzzle at Dean’s balls, breathing warm, moist breaths against them and tugging at them gently. “Not yet,” he says softly, and Dean groans in frustration this time and lets his head fall back, thunking painfully against the headboard.  
  
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”  
  
“Death by blowjob,” Sam chuckles. He lifts his head up and drags his tongue – slowly, so _fucking_ slowly – up the underside of Dean’s cock where it’s resting against his abdomen hard enough to cut diamonds. “That’s a new one, even for us.”  
  
“Sam.” Dean growls. He grips Sam’s shoulder, probably too hard but he needs it to steady himself.  
  
“Are you not having fun?” Sam asks, picking Dean’s cock up and licking softly over the head and against the slit and Dean moans again as his whole body shudders and his head falls forward this time, chin bumping into his chest.  
  
He doesn’t answer because words don’t seem to exist anymore after Sam sucks Dean’s cock back into his mouth for what Dean hopes to _God_ is the last time. At least for now. He manages to drag his heavy head back up so he can watch, Sam’s soft pink lips looking like sin and salvation wrapped around Dean’s angry red erection. Dean’s eyes trail down the lean line of Sam’s back to his perfect ass and Dean really wishes he could reach it from this position. Then he notices that Sam’s hips are moving; only slightly, not enough to get him off but enough to have his own cock grinding into the mattress underneath him and _dammit_ that’s hot. The idea of Sam chasing after his own pleasure as he works so hard for Dean’s has Dean’s head swimming.  
  
“Sammy,” he mumbles, not capable of saying anything else.  
  
Sam looks up at him again, and the glint in his eyes finally – fucking _finally_ – gives Dean the green light. Sam lifts his head up so only the last inch of Dean is in his mouth and he wraps his big hand around the rest, suddenly jerking him quick and hard and almost rough, and the orgasm tears out of Dean like a strike of lightening. He cries out loudly as pleasure rips through him and his cock swells and spills onto Sam’s tongue. Dean twitches almost violently with each mind-blowing pulse, and after the first two Sam lets Dean’s cock fall out of his mouth so he can lick along the underside while Dean moans and the rest of his release lands just under Sam’s right eye.  
  
When it’s over, Dean feels like his limbs have completely lost the ability to move on their own. His whole body feels heavy and useless in the best possible way. There are streaks of come on Sam’s smooth cheek, starkly white against his tanned skin. Dean stares at it, his vision blurry and his heart jack-hammering in his chest, and Sam just grins at him like he doesn’t even mind that Dean’s jizz is all over his face because he’s too busy being pleased with himself for making Dean come, and suddenly he’s fifteen again, all sweetness and innocence and eager to please, and Dean wants to mess him the fuck up. He reaches out with a shaky hand and drags his thumb just below the slippery mess, doesn’t want to brush it away but still aches to touch it.  
  
“C’mere,” Dean slurs, and Sam pushes up to his hands and knees and crawls up Dean’s body until he can settle in his lap, straddling Dean’s hips with his legs folded under him. Dean cups Sam’s dry cheek in one hand and runs his fingers through the mess on the other, bringing them to Sam’s lips and watching with wide eyes and shallow breaths as Sam licks them clean.  
  
Sam smiles at him again when he’s done, but shyly this time, like he’s suddenly sweet, bashful Sammy again after being a freakin’ god of sex two minutes ago. Dean almost rolls his eyes, but instead he pulls Sam in for a soft, lazy kiss and hums happily at the bitter taste of himself on Sam’s tongue.  
  
“What now?” Sam asks, their lips falling apart but foreheads staying pressed together.  
  
Dean reaches down between them and trails his fingertips over Sam’s erection, grinning to himself when Sam hisses sharply. “I guess this needs taking care of.”  
  
“You got another one in you, old man?” Sam teases gently, one hand sliding around the back of Dean’s neck and squeezing. The other hand settles over Dean’s tattoo and his fingers brush against the mark on his skin that matches Sam’s.  
  
“Why?” Dean asks, sliding his hand loosely around Sam’s cock and stroking it slowly. “You wanna get fucked?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam breathes, his voice needy and desperate, and Dean has to close his eyes against an intense, unexpected wave of arousal.  
  
“M’pretty sure I could be talked into it.”  
  
____  
  
When Dean’s body drags his mind to the fuzzy surface of consciousness, Sam is still beside him. Dean blinks a few times groggily, waking up slowly. Sam is sitting against the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, in grey sweats and shirtless, with his computer on his lap and his fingers tapping briskly over the keys. Dean tries not to move as he peeks up at Sam’s bare chest with one squinted eye, his gaze traveling over Sam’s smooth skin and those annoyingly perfect muscles. There’s a fairly obvious hickey at the base of Sam’s neck, and Dean grins to himself as he remembers putting it there. It’s probably tender and blood-warm and Dean’s fingers twitch with the urge to reach up and press against it.  
  
Sam notices he’s awake after a minute, and he smiles down at him; that soft, fond smile that’s always reserved for Dean. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” Dean answers, his voice scratchy. He pushes up to one elbow and squints in the bright light flowing in from the windows. “What time is it?”  
  
“Almost ten.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widen. “Seriously? Ten in the morning? We slept all night?”  
  
“Well, _I_ slept all night,” Sam corrects with a fond chuckle. “You slept all night and half of the morning too.”  
  
Dean groans appreciatively and falls back onto the pillow, rubbing his hands over his face and then stretching out his tired muscles. “Fuck. It’s been forever since I’ve been out for that long.”  
  
“Yeah.” Sam reaches over and runs his fingers absently through Dean’s messy hair. “That’s good. You needed it.”  
  
“Thanks, Mommy,” Dean says sarcastically, but he’s only half-serious. Waking up like this, with Sam there next to him, after a few good orgasms and a decent night’s sleep for a change – it’s nice. It’s peaceful, almost domestic, in a way that usually would have Dean balking but right now just makes him happy.  
  
“I got you coffee, but that was an hour ago so it’s probably stone cold,” Sam says.  
  
“You left?”  
  
“Just went to the diner across the street. Thought you’d be up by the time I got back, but you weren’t, so.” Sam shrugs. “Figured I’d try to find us a case while you got your beauty rest.”  
  
Dean grumbles and pinches Sam’s leg, and Sam swats him. “So did you find one?”  
  
“Yep.” Sam gestures at the screen of his laptop, and Dean sits up so he can see it. “A couple in Alliance, Nebraska went out last night, left their kid with a babysitter, and when they came back the kid was asleep in his bed and the sitter was dead on the couch. The coroner thinks she was attacked by some kind of wild animal, but all the doors and windows were locked and nothing in the house was broken or out of place.”  
  
“So what got her?” Dean asks, and then cringes sympathetically when Sam pulls up pictures of a fairly bloody crime scene.  
  
“I have no idea. Somethin’ with claws so sharp they tore right _through_ her scalp.”  
  
“Wendigo, maybe?”  
  
Sam shrugs. “I guess it’s possible. Not likely, though, it’s not anywhere near the right area.”  
  
Dean nods. He stretches his arms over his head again and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Alright. I guess we’re going to Nebraska.”  
  
____  
  
“So what are we gonna do?” Sam begins quietly.  
  
“About the kid?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Dean sighs heavily and closes his eyes for a moment. It’s been hours since Jesse took off but Dean probably won’t ever have a good answer to that question. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Are we gonna try to find him?”  
  
Dean shrugs. “How? He’s not a demon, I mean not fully, so we can’t summon him. And you heard what Cas said. He’s gonna stay hidden as long as he wants to.”  
  
Sam frowns. “Yeah. I don’t know. I just … it doesn’t feel right just putting this in our rearview.”  
  
“What else are we supposed to do?” Dean tosses his arms out and then lets them fall to his sides. “Really, Sam, what? I mean, I feel for the kid. I do. But we’re outta moves on this one, man.”  
  
Sam just stares at him, with his forehead scrunched and his eyes wide and sad.  
  
“It blows, it really does,” Dean says regretfully. “But the shitty truth is I think we just gotta cut our losses this time. Move onto someone we can actually help.”  
  
“I …” Sam looks like he’s going to argue for a moment, and then just kinda deflates. He sighs and sits down slowly on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I know you’re right, I just …”  
  
“I’m not any happier about it than you are.”  
  
Sam nods. “I guess. It’s just that he’s a kid. He’s never done anything wrong, it’s not his fault there’s demon in him.”  
  
Dean’s on the verge of saying it isn’t Sam’s fault there’s demon in _him_ either, but he doesn’t. They’ve played that song too many times anyway. They both know all the words; there isn’t anything Dean could say that Sam hasn’t heard a hundred times before.  
  
“He left ‘cause he didn’t wanna fight, right?” Dean reasons. “So we just gotta hope he doesn’t change his mind about that. Or at least if he does, that he resurfaces to play for our team.”  
  
Sam nods again, chewing on his bottom lip. He lies slowly back onto the bed, his feet still on the ground and his knees bent over the edge of the mattress, and covers his face with his hands. “Sometimes our job sucks ass.”  
  
Dean laughs a little, even though it isn’t funny. He joins his brother on the bed, kicking off his shoes as he sits down and then reaching over to pat Sam’s hip. There’s a sliver of skin visible between Sam’s jeans and his t-shirt and Dean tries very hard not to think about their night together a few days ago while they’re talking about a little boy who’s being hunted by demons.  
  
“This is probably the best outcome anyway, Sam. He’s just a kid, he doesn’t deserve to be used as a weapon for either side, you know? This way, he knows what he is, and he knows why he has to stay gone.”  
  
Sam opens his eyes and looks up at Dean. Dean smiles at him a little and Sam returns it, even though he still looks sad.  
  
“He’s gonna be okay,” Dean says, and he at least halfway believes it. “Now that he knows what he is? He knows he can kick the ass of anything that tries to hurt him.”  
  
“Yeah. I know.” Sam sits back up and bumps Dean’s shoulder with his own. “This one didn’t end like I was hoping. But you’re right.”  
  
“Always,” Dean jokes. “When will you learn?”  
  
Sam laughs a little. “I’m not touchin’ that one.”  
  
Dean laughs too. He gets up and takes his jacket off, rolling it up and tossing it into his bag. “You tired?” he asks Sam. Part of him wants to jump Sam right now – he can’t seem to get enough since they’ve been back together – but then another part of him would feel skeevy about having sex with his brother in the wake of a missing kid.  
  
“I was gonna stop, you know.”  
  
Dean frowns and turns around. “Stop what?”  
  
Sam doesn’t answer for a moment. Then he shakes his head a little quickly. “Sorry. Never mind. Didn’t really mean to say that out loud.”  
  
Dean raises an eyebrow at him, and Sam avoids eye contact.  
  
“Jesse just made me think about some things,” Sam continues reluctantly, probably realizing Dean isn’t going to let it go. “Like what Cas said, about why would we give Jesse a chance to make the right choice when I had that same chance and made the wrong one.”  
  
Dean waits for him to keep going, and then when Sam doesn’t, he starts undressing so Sam doesn’t feel like he’s being watched but says, “You know I’m gonna need more than that.”  
  
Sam takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly while Dean unbuttons his shirt and jeans and tries not to look at his brother. “I wasn’t gonna go through with it. Ruby and I were outside the church, and I was gonna back out. I was thinkin’ you were right. And then I got your message, and it just … it pushed me over the edge,” Sam mumbles. He turns slightly away from Dean and rubs his hands over his face.  
  
“Pushed you over the edge why?” Dean asks. That is completely the last thing he’d intended when he left that voicemail for Sam. He wanted to _stop_ him, not egg him on.  
  
“What you said. And you were right. I _was_ a monster, you were right to give up on me. I’m not blaming you, I just … hearing you say it like that …”  
  
Dean blinks. He’s completely confused. He remembers leaving a message for Sam but that isn’t at _all_ what he said. He leaves his clothes in a heap on the floor and goes over to the bed, sitting next to Sam in his t-shirt and boxers and nudging his brother to turn back so he can see his eyes. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“The voicemail you left me. The night I …”  
  
“Yeah, I remember it. But I never said any of that.”  
  
Sam frowns and cocks his head to one side. “I heard it.”  
  
“Heard _what_?”  
  
“You called me a monster, you said …” He exhales slowly again like it’s painful to talk about. “You said Dad always said you had to kill me or save me and you were done trying to save me.”  
  
Dean stares at him. What Sam’s saying doesn’t make any sense at all. He shakes his head and gets up to finds his phone. He saved that message right after he left it. He didn’t even know why at the time, he just wanted to have it. It wasn’t even about anyone else ever hearing it; Dean just wanted to keep it for himself. Maybe as proof that he didn’t give up on Sam. He turns the volume up and presses play, and watches a hundred emotions cross Sam’s face as it plays, as Dean’s voice says that they’re family and that doesn’t change.  
  
“That’s not what was on my phone,” Sam whispers, his eyes wide. “Not even close.”  
  
Dean gapes at him. It doesn’t make any sense at all, until suddenly something clicks in his head and it makes perfect sense – what Zachariah said, when he had Dean trapped in that angelic waiting room. He said Sam was going to kill Lilith but first he would need to be nudged in the right direction. “He changed it.”  
  
“Who did?”  
  
“Zachariah.”  
  
Sam frowns and shakes his head. “Why would he do that?”  
  
“He wanted you to kill Lilith, like I said the other day. He knew it was the last seal, he needed to keep me from stopping you. That’s why he had me locked up. Zach said you’d need something to make you go through with it, that he was gonna do something to tip the scales and make sure you didn’t back out. At the time, I …” Dean thinks back, tries to remember what had been going through his head in that room. It feels like it happened so long ago. “I think I thought it was something to do with Ruby. Like that they were in on it together or something. But now … I’d tried to call you earlier, but they had the signals messed up or something, my phone wouldn’t work. And then Cas let me call you, but I guess Zach knew if you heard what I really said you’d change your mind.”  
  
For a long time, Sam doesn’t say anything. His eyebrows stay stitched together in a frown and he stares at the floor like he’s attempting to process the new information and integrate it into reality; into his memories of that night. He doesn’t look like it’s really working, either. Eventually he just mutters, “Fuck,” like he has no idea what else to say.  
  
“You … um.” Dean doesn’t know what else to say either. The idea that Sam heard something so different, that he heard Dean’s voice calling him horrible things and giving up on him – on _them_ – hurts so much Dean kind of can’t breathe right.  
  
Sam shakes his head, still not looking at Dean. “I just … this changes … everything. _Everything_ would have gone down differently if I’d heard what you actually said.”  
  
“Would you really have stopped?” Dean asks softly. He really, really wants to believe that’s true.  
  
“I was already thinkin’ about it. That’s why I listened to the message in the first place, I was lookin’ for a reason to stop. I wanted you to tell me to stop.” He blinks a few times quickly and then looks up at Dean with tears in his eyes. “Can’t quite seem to get my head around it.”  
  
Dean goes over to him, cupping Sam’s face in his hands and leaning down to kiss him softly.  
  
“We really got played, didn’t we?” Sam mutters, like he hates himself for it.  
  
“Yeah, we did,” Dean agrees. “Nothin’ we can do about that now. We just gotta make sure it doesn’t happen again.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Let’s just sleep, okay?” Dean kisses him again and then stands back up. “You never know how quick the next one’s comin’.”  
  
Sam nods. He gets up and starts stripping, and Dean crawls tiredly into bed and waits for him. Sam shuts the lights off and then he hovers awkwardly between the two beds like he’s not sure which one he should get into.  
  
Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes at the same time.  
  
“What?” Sam’s voice asks, halfway between amused and defensive.  
  
“Would you quit angsting and get in here? Emo chick.”  
  
Sam shoots him a bitch-face that Dean feels rather than sees because it’s dark in the room, but Sam listens and climbs in next to Dean.  
  
“Always makin’ such a big hairy deal about everything,” Dean mumbles as he tugs the thin blankets over them and pulls Sam into his arms. Dean likes sleeping with Sam pressed up against him as much as anyone would but he doesn’t like it when they have to acknowledge that it’s what they’re doing. Sam has a bad habit of needed to categorize everything. Dean would rather they just do what they do and shut up about it.  
  
Sam lies next to Dean on his side, with his face turned into Dean’s neck and one arm draped across Dean’s stomach. There are things he wants to say, Dean can feel it – probably about how they’re still finding their footing again after Ruby and the angels and everything knocked them down, and that he didn’t automatically get into the bed with Dean because he’s unsure about where their lines are right now – but Dean already knows it all so he’s happy Sam keeps his mouth shut.  
  
“It was lucky you saved that message,” Sam eventually says quietly.  
  
“Yeah. M’sorry,” Dean murmurs into Sam’s hair, even though he knows it isn’t really his fault.  
  
Sam shrugs a little, and then asks, “For what?”  
  
“That you had to hear me say whatever shitty things I said in it.”  
  
“You didn’t say them.”  
  
“I know. But you thought I did.” Dean kisses the soft strands hair beneath his lips.  
  
“Least I know the truth now.”  
  
“You weren’t a monster, Sam,” Dean says. He knows Sam needs to hear him say that. “I know I called you that for real once or twice, but I was wrong. I was upset, I … I was scared. ‘Cause I thought I was losing you. But I shouldn’t have. And I won’t, ever again. We hunt monsters. You weren’t like them.”  
  
“I killed people,” Sam whispers.  
  
“No, you killed demons,” Dean argues softly. He reaches his arm across himself and cups Sam’s jaw in his hand. Sam turns his face into Dean’s touch. “You tried to _save_ people.”  
  
“Yeah.” Sam falls silent for a while, and Dean just breathes in the scent of his hair and trails his fingers absently up and down Sam’s back over the worn t-shirt.  
  
“Cas was wrong, you know,” Dean tells him.  
  
Sam doesn’t answer for nearly a full minute. Dean can _feel_ him over-thinking. “No he wasn’t. He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”  
  
“He was still a dick to say it.”  
  
Sam shrugs a little again and then changes the subject. “Hey, can I ask you something?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Sam pauses for a moment. “When you jerked off the other day? Were you really thinkin’ about that nurse?”  
  
He sounds more curious than jealous, but it still makes Dean smile to think Sam’s hoping it isn’t true. “Sorta.”  
  
“Meaning?”  
  
He grins wider. “I, uh. Yeah, I was thinkin’ about her. But she was blowin’ you.”  
  
Sam laughs loudly. “Hot. I guess.”  
  
Dean hums in agreement. “Yes it was. The noises you were makin’…”  
  
He feels Sam’s lips curved into a smile against his neck. “You must have a pretty good imagination.”  
  
“S’not that hard. I got a lotta real-life material to work with.”  
  
Sam laughs again, but softer this time. He sounds relaxed and content, and given the circumstances, it’s better than Dean could’ve hoped for. He hugs Sam a little tighter, tries not to think about how Sam’s probably gonna point out tomorrow that they cuddled-without-sex which they hardly ever do, and closes his eyes. Sam’s hair smells good, and Sam feels good in his arms, and unless Cas or Bobby calls in the middle of the night with a new case, Dean is going to sleep really, really well again.


End file.
